Stone Sky
by headphone frenzy
Summary: The disguise is perfect. The timing is just right. The characters are in place, so all that's left now is the preformance, and an oddly dressed Sync. Fon Master!Sync x Guy. Fluff. One Shot.


Stone Sky.

Headphone does not own.

(x)

If here was a single thing that Sync hated, it was Luke.

Always and forever, and not just for the fact that he was a 'successful' replica while the green-haired teen could only be considered as a 'waste of time', or a 'failure'. That wasn't even _close_ to why he hated the red-haired, idiotically naïve yet desperate skirt-chasing buffoon. He hated the boy, who was sadly older then him by years in bulk, because of the ignorance he possessed, and the fact that he possessed anything at all that was not simply negative space itself. Pure, empty, nothingness.

Sync had nothing, while Luke had everything he ever wanted, and given to him without any form of question or inquiry, no less. The simple thought of that boiled Sync's blood more then anything had ever done, albeit literal lava or the misdemeanors the score protected.

Though, the word 'hate' seemed a bit weak, words like 'loath' and 'despise' would have seemed a bit more accurate as to how much the replica hated his senior.

But in all accuracy, the thing that Sync had wanted, more then power or recognition as a person, was something he could never possess as long as the redhead remained in the picture. It was something that stood about five foot ten, wore skin-tight pants, and had the most aloof nature even possible to pull of for someone so anal when given a problematic situation. While there was one way to work around the issue of the redhead, he knew that Van would chew his ass left and right for it, and probably discard of him in the same process.

So he, the ignored and abused replica that he was, had to think of some sort of plan in where he could get close to this person of desire, simply by the name of Guy Cecille, without having to brutally butcher his replicated left-arm appendage. The only thing he realized that could work however, would leave both Him and Ion in a very awkward situation, considering what would happen in case of a run-in.

But, it was worth a shot, if he could pull it off right.

(x)

"I'm not opening the Sephiroth for you, if that's what you came for."

"No, I'm not here asking you a favor on account of Van, it is simply for me, myself, and I."

He could visibly see Ions face smooth out a bit, showing he was a bit more okay if only in the smallest manner possible. Though, the simple fact that Sync's request was rather odd left him feeling a bit doubting and what he thought was regretful. However, he had quickly shaken the thought away before he could contemplate other awkward emotions that were out of his range.

"What is it?"

Sync swallowed his pride, and explained his plain, his idea. A large portion of him was expecting the Fon Master to shoot him down, but swallowed what little pride he had and dealt with it.

"So, you want me to…switch places with you?"

"Yes, Fon Master."

Contrary to popular belief, Sync would never have gone out of his way to be directly rude to the Fon Master, because he really appreciated his position in the Order far too much to let a simple insult put him down to the trash of society. He had already been there once, and he was never going back. Another part of him, however, felt a bit inclined to do so, if just simply out of respect. That doesn't mean it felt less awkward, however.

"This is a rather strange request."

"I'm in a rather strange situation."

"Okay, explain to me, though, why would you want to do this? To gather information for the God-Generals to help Van in his quest, or something else?"

Ion, Sync had to admit, wasn't as friendly to him as he was to his guardian, but he supposed he had kind of put himself into that sort of situation. So, the responses that held an undertone of hate in them, like the Original's, didn't really cut him as much as they could have.

"Not at all. I plan to do this solely for my own purposes."

"And what would that be?"

"To get close to one of them."

This obviously piqued his interest, because Ion's eyes seemed to widen in an odd shade of curiosity and bemuse that made him seem like he was back to innocence. Sync was almost positive that by this point, Ion was able to see that he was telling the truth, or maybe he couldn't and he was simply hoping.

In all complete honesty, though, the obnoxiously rude replica had no real intent on using the opportunity to spy, or gather information, in all reality, he hated the whole group and wanted to simply get close to Guy, and lure him to love. Though, he would hate for Guy to fall for the Fon Master, instead of himself. Though, it was a risk he was willing to take.

"Which one?"

"The one I put the curse on."

"Guy?"

"Yes."

There was a moment of silence, just a slight pause for Ion to wrap his naïve mind around everything he was hearing. Because, if he wasn't going mad from all of the score-readings he has gone through in the past, he thought he could hear Sync actually asking him a favor with a genuine and possibly _pleading _tone in his voice. That couldn't possibly right, could it?

"Why would you do that?"

"Because he…he strikes my fancy, in simple terms."

Ion was, in just as simply terms, moved by Sync's control of temper, because he could see the way he griped his gloves so hard that if the protective leather was not there, he would have been bleeding from the length of his nails. Though, at the same time, the Fon Master was torn between allowing his twin to pose as him, because it seemed a bit, how would he put it, inconvenient, to say the least.

"And why should I do this?"

Scratch the self-control.

Because, before an actual answer could be found, Sync had slammed his clenched fist into the desk Ion sat behind, making the previously impressed Fon Master simply flinch, even if he was aware of his awful temper, and the way he lashed out on impulse.

"Are you gonna do it or not!?"

Frustrated and questioning were two entirely different tones, but Sync was able to combine them in an awkward sort of mix, not even caring if he was getting out of line, which he knew very well that he was. He could almost hear the clock in the next room over ticking, that's how quiet Ion was being, but the older green haired replica ignored the nerve-wracking tick, tock, of the clock as his eyes glared holes into his twin.

"Alright. I'll do it."

A flood washed over the boy, and the only way to describe Sync at that point would have to have been 'relieved'.

(x)

Teaching Sync on how to act as the Fon Master was not easy.

Not only did he have to capture the walk, with an innocent strut that mixed uncertainty and adventure in a contradicting sashay, but he also had to capture the essence of how his voice had to be portrayed, and if he so much as slipped up, Jade would be on him like a flies to honey. Another factor that slightly bothered him was that he wasn't allowed to fight, since the Fon Master was a fragile and delicate flower that would break upon contact.

Another factor that his younger twin pestered him to control was his temper.

Ion did not have a temper, and thus he would not be able to appear as such, and if he did, people would start getting worried. This little thing, the controlling of his temper, was not an art that Sync could have mastered, even if he spent a lifetime on it, so after a full day of practicing different aspects with his Gemini, he had hardly progressed an inch, maybe a centimeter.

But that little amount was better then nothing, he supposed.

"Anything else I need to worry about, oh Fon Master?"

His voice was becoming elegant, such as to fit the Fon Master's, and the younger replica was happy to remark on how quickly he caught on to such things. The only real issue now was the sarcasm, assholish comments, and always-present anger that seemed to make up permanent resident in Sync's lower gut, pouring words of negativity and pessimism to his vocal chords and brain.

"Your outfit."

Sync didn't like the sound of where this was going. Because, as he currently was, he was still in his usual get-up. But, if memory suited him correctly, Ion's outfit consisted of a dress-like robe that was covered with a thin, defenseless, and almost completely useless tabard that was added simply for decoration. Another thing that he remembered, if only briefly, about the outfit was also the hair, which Sync took time and dedication to style up and out in the most unruly way possible.

"What about it?"

Sync really didn't see a problem with it at first, until he was able to put two and two together before his younger twin even spoke.

"It needs to change, along with your hair."

"Great, just great."

Sarcasm was heavily laden in that comment, almost jam-packed into it, and he didn't even bother using his innocent sugar-coated tone of voice of rainbow sprinkles and pink buttercups. It just wasn't worth wasting his breath.

(x)

One shower and three outfit changes later, Sync was now an exact clone of the Fon master, if not in the most literal sense possible. His hair, much to his dismay, had to be cropped and molded back to the original state it was in when he was first created, meaning that it now had the single chunk of hair in the front, along with two side chunks that were pulled into tube-like hair-pins that kept them down, followed by the head-piece being added daintily to the crown of his head, adding the finishing touches to the look.

He felt awful, if anything.

A complete match to the Fon Master, in height, body type, and size.

But, if he would be able to get close to Guy, then so be it.

(x)

"Ion! It's so good to see you again."

Luke was, aside from Guy, the sole purpose of Sync's being there, dressed like the Fon Master and acting exactly how the young, naïve, useful pupil would in this and any situation. The only difference between the two is the meaning behind their words, and how completely the two of them had different hidden meanings, different translations to what they were thinking.

"You too, Luke." (Translation: Go kill yourself.)

"My, my, what brings you all the way from Daath?"

Jade, it was almost obvious that he saw through the disguise, but something told Sync that he hadn't even realized it. Something told him, pleaded to him, that it was just his awful, filth-filled mind playing temperamental, paranoid thoughts in his mind to get him out of the dress and back into something dignifying.

"I finished everything that I needed to do in Daath, so I decided to come find you guys."

Lies. All of it was a pile of lies, yet no one questioned it. Everything that Sync said sounded completely legit, and he couldn't believe it was all so easy. Though, Jade was not one to be messed with, specifically because with his ability to see through disguises and the like.

"Ah, I see."

That smirk irked the boy to no end. If Sync was himself, in which he could act in whatever way he wanted to, he would have loved to have slugged the smirk straight off that Necromancers face. But, he had a duty to fulfill, albeit a stupid one that only involved his own personal interests.

"How did you find us?"

"Asch gave me a ride here, since he had stopped in Daath momentarily, and you guys were located along the way."

That actually was true, just hours before, Sync had found himself asking the commander of special operations where the group was, though with his disguise on, claiming that he needed to talk to them about something that concerned him. Asch, being the soft-hearted, Fon Master-loving person he was poured over all the information he knew.

As if. In actuality, Asch had to have the information of where the group was pried from him with the most amount of force and pride possible to muster in a girly dress and leggings, with Sync only being able to keep his temper by focusing on the pain of grinding his cheek in between his teeth and focusing solely on what it was for. The act itself, however, didn't take very long, but doing anything in that get-up seemed to make time slow down to increments of an entire ice age per second, sixty per minute, and way too many per hour to be important.

"I see."

The 'Fon Master' felt watched, with everyone's eyes on him in both bemuse and complete and unadulterated curiosity. It was like a bunch of sheep lined up, gossiping loudly at each other.

"Honestly, Ion, you seem so spacey."

Anise, the horrible wench that clung to the real Fon Master like he was the cure to Tear's disease, was actually being a tolerable human being at the moment. Though, that could all change, for the better or for the worst, depending on how she was within the rest of the time Sync would have to pull off his charade that could easily be discovered by just the real Fon Master's appearance. It was dire that Sync hurry up in his gimmick, but he didn't want to seem pushy and out-of-character.

"I'm okay, just a little tired from the trip."

"Need to rest?

Luke, the horrible person he was, dared to ask. It was like pleading for murder from an angry mobster who would comply if he could, but was bound by both character and lingering eyes.

"No I'm fine." (Translation: I if were you, I wouldn't stop anywhere. But if you like not having to worry about the horrors of being 18, then by all means.)

Though, no matter his insistencies, the group took it as their job to make his life hell and stop at the inn, taking full liberties to set up the rooms in both to and against his favor. The rooms were organized in groups of gender, aside from Jade assigning a room specifically for him and Anise to mildly solve the problem of space in the double-bedded rooms in the gangly Sheridan hotels.

Yes, Sheridan, that was where the group was, most likely doing Lorelei-knows-what in the process of their stay. But, Sync preferred to ignore their plans of the future in order to keep to his main goal of seducing the blonde-haired male that seemed to invade his thoughts every now and then.

And by that, he really means almost 24/7, not like he was ever going to admit it to anyone, though.

Though, the sleeping arrangements did leave him in a bit of an awkward state, because while there was enough room to sleep, he either had to share a bed, or deal with the absolute torture of seeing Luke, the most vilest of creatures ever to have been created outside of Yulia's name, in the same bed as the one person he was doing all this for.

(x)

"Guy, are you going to share a bed with me, or Ion?"

By the time night had rolled around, and bedding arrangements had become an issue, Sync was used to being called by his surname, his original name. It was only like some small part, unheard, almost diminished part of him was able to remember what it felt like to be 'Ion replica number five'.

Or maybe that part of him simply connected the memories to the burning of the volcano, the terror he felt as he was scorched, branded without a nametag.

Though, that was ignored for the situation at hand, because if Guy had chosen Luke over the replicated Fon Master, he would never have forgiven the blonde, no matter how much he would beg. Though, he doubted he would ever actually _beg_ for forgiveness.

"Well, last time you shared a bed with me, I got pushed off the bed entirely from how much you rolled around, so probably Ion." This comment was accompanied by a scoff from the red-headed demon and a slight growl in the blonde's throat, though wither it was of annoyance or simply discomfort, is unknown.

Though, the simple thought of it made the well disguised replica almost leap for joy, but strictly to the point that his emotions were only reflected on the inside, though after being forced to be emotionally inept, he was able to pull of a look of being an unfazed holy disciple better then he thought he could even manage, which was fairly surprising, since he thought he would have cracked by that point. Apparently not.

"Man, that's just 'cause I wasn't used to sharing a bed, like, _ever_."

In all honesty, the false Fon Master found Luke's argument to be completely invalid, despite anything and everything he could have said for it. Just the thought of him saying anything for himself, made Sync cringe in disgust and feel his heart rise into his throat just to keep him from throwing up whatever dinner was. (Apparently Tear had made it, and whatever it was, it appeared to be some sort of steak shaped as though it was a cake, with frosting and everything. It disturbed and disgusted him, to say the least.)

"Still, I wasn't pleased when I woke up on the floor with a hurting hip because of you and your constant rolling."

If Sync wasn't told to keep his temper, he could have probably strangled the disrespectful, almost selfish replicated fool for causing any harm on the blonde swordsman's person. Though, he clenched his fist, appearing normal to the naked eye, but with enough force that his palms were staggering with pain.

All be damned if that red-headed, snobby-assed, overly-nagging boy was getting through the whole night alive and in one piece.

(x)

That night, Sync did not sleep.

This was not very surprising to the teen.

If anything, he couldn't, but not because his stomach ached from the monstrosity they had claimed was 'food', but more so because the apple of his eye was curled up next to him, and he was so intent on studying the older male that he felt ridiculous. The only thing that really worried him was Guy waking up, and seeing the not-so-innocent Fon Master staring attentively at his face, studying the small details like it would be his only chance.

For the first time, the green-haired replica noticed the details he failed to notice from across the battlefield. Small things, like how Guy's nose was curved outward, if only slightly, coming down in a slope to end in a bulb-like fashion above his nostrils, or how his eyebrows weren't completely level with one another, and that the right one was slightly tilted more then it's double.

All of these things were small factors, but with the proximity, and the ability to _smell_ the swordsman, whose scent was that of pure, unadulterated man mixed with a sweet fragrance of honey and some other flower that didn't even smell womanly, but just 'nice', Sync couldn't even allow himself to sleep.

Even his heart was quickening, which he didn't really approve of, considering it now felt like it was popping out of his chest. So, with much disdain, he pushed himself out from under the covers, finding the shoes that he left by the bedside, and proceeded to walk outside to possibly cool himself down and slow his heart if even slightly.

Because, if it didn't slow down soon, he felt that his health would be endangered like the actual Ion's, and that wouldn't be good at all, considering that this was all voluntary and of his own volition.

Though, when he exited the door, he didn't realize that he had woken someone in the process.

(x)

By the time everyone else had awoken, Sync was _more_ then pleased with himself.

Not only had he confessed his feelings, Guy was no more shocked as he was concerned. Because, as far as he knew, the Fon Master wasn't allowed to have feelings for someone of his now-lowly status.

This, however, was cleared up, and while the swordsman was concerned and a bit scared at first, he relaxed after he realized that they hadn't discussed anything of importance that entire evening, and the whole night prior was spent chatting away with friendly topics and ignoring the issues such as the world ending, and the group's plans on stopping the God-Generals dead in their tracks.

"You don't have to worry; I didn't come here to spy."

In all honesty, Sync wasn't sure if he was more insulted or pre-occupied by convincing the older male that he was not there to steal his team's secrets of saving the world and crushing Van's plans of mass-destruction.

"Then why, why are you here?"

An annoyed sigh escaped Sync's lips, no longer even bothering to keep up the disguise of 'Fon Master' so long as his audience already knew the truth. In all actuality, he hadn't even tried it from the moment Guy stepped outside the room to talk to him.

"For you, I already said."

"Are you serious?"

Concern was heavy in the blonde's voice, and Sync would have found himself offended if he hadn't seen it coming, it he hadn't expected to be pushed away hard and violently. Things in his mind floated around in the form of words, all of them negative and to the degree of 'failure' and 'traitor'.

He ignored it though, he ignored all of it.

"Yes. I came here, dressed as the naïve boy known as the Fon Master, simply for you."

"Out of pity, or…" His voice trailed off, signaling in bright flashing letters that he was either uncertain about why, or that he was simply hesitating on not wanting to continue. That, however, was ignored, since Sync could care less if he actually comprehended the situation.

"Love."

In all honesty, the word sounded oddly foreign on Sync's lips, inside of his mouth, off of his two-toned vocal chords. He had never had a need to say such a meaningless word, and he had never though it would make his chest flutter, if ever-so-slightly, to say it.

"I didn't know you had that in you."

If that sentence wasn't accompanied by a quick stab of his sword, a painful bleeding wound to the green-haired replica's opening heart, it sure felt like one. Because those words, those few words that were probably meant to be a sarcastic sort of joke, felt like acid being poured on an open wound, not just salt.

"That's rather mean."

"Please, forgive me." That was followed by a low bow, the blonde swordsman's arm folding neatly over his stomach, almost accentuating his bow with much more elegance and posterity needed for the simple gesture. While coming up from his bending, however, he found his collar being latched to with a force only possible of the Tempest himself, and being pulled forward.

The kiss was filled with a sense of both a tainted darkness yet a peaceful sense of chaste, with an odd mixture of hate from the midst of Guy's gut and conscience, a passion that was burning from Sync's lust-infested brain and systems, all the while filled with this odd sense of yearning from the both of them, equal parts sunshine and equal parts olive. Though, even if Guy thought it was wrong, inappropriate, or even disgusting, he allowed it without complaint, almost taking it upon himself to lead the equally-inexperienced teen in the act of seduction.

Their lips danced, both with fervor and elegance, but in this sort of way that just hankered down and spoke in voices and tones of 'I'm going to hold you now and never let go, even if you're dying of suffocation.' Within moments, it seemed, they were working against and for each other, both of them attempting for dominance, which seemed particularly difficult for the far shorter replica in flat-heeled slippers.

By the end of what seemed to be an eternity and a half, Sync let go, albeit unwillingly, allowing both of them to coat their desperate lungs with much-needed oxygen. The two of them just panted heavily, their breathing desperate for a few moments before returning back to the normal, calm state that it always was and always had been at, despite flushed cheeks and racing hearts.

"You're forgiven."

The remark itself seemed to have come out of nowhere, but both of them ignored that small factor, because somehow, someway, it was completely logical, even if it really didn't make a lick of sense. They would force it to make sense if they had to.

Guy smirked slightly at the comment, but only with the smallest degree possible because he was only quirky, not cocky. That emotion seemed to be trademarked to Asch as of the moment he learned that arrogance was a possible feeling that a human could feel. Both of the males, the taller male looking down, if only slightly, in an endearing way, and Sync, looking up in an agitated yet completely blissful sort of merry, appeared to be perfectly content.

"Am I?"

Now the smirk grew, but this time on Sync's face, his innocent 'I'm the Fon Master, and I'm all sugar and smiles' act fading away as his hard-ass, devil-incarnated, almost-temper-itself sort of attitude returned to hit the surface of his facial expression.

"Yes."

There was a pause, if only slightly, and Sync felt the world stop, and time sat still. The replicated Fon Master felt like some weight was dropped on Auldrant, and now the entire planet had stopped its revolution around the Sun, and that of itself.

"For what?"

Guy allowed Sync to lean against him, taking in the very-early morning air in through his nose and out his mouth, almost like some sort of planned exercise for improving his health or breathing patterns. (Sync knew that somehow, the situation had to be ironic, so he figured that if he blamed it on the breathing patterns of the blonde, the feeling would slowly go away.)

"For almost choosing Luke over me."

There was a small chuckle, just barely there, but it informed Sync that he wasn't going to be getting out of that outfit any time soon.

'just great.' He thought, if only for the sole sake of the sarcasm he wasn't allowed in his 'Fon Master Ion' dialect. 'another day of dealing with Jade on friendly terms.'

(x)

I think this is decent. Not one of my best works, but definitely one of my longest. (Actually I think this is the longest thing I've _ever_ written that I actually completed.) The ending is sloppy; I'm half-asleep trying to beta it, so half of the things that I'm fixing are going to, most likely, become errors themselves by tomorrow morning. Ugh, I really need to stop staying up until 2 in the morning with only 7 hours of sleep. I'm starting to get bags under my eyes. (Darn you, Sync/Guy, for being so cute!) Also, just to let you guys know, I'm not actually sure as to _when_ this takes place, sometime in-between Sync's 'death' and Ion's. I'm not sure.

I, uhm, hope you guys like it, even if it isn't as explicit as some of my other fan-fictions. (Cough _makebelieve _cough.) I was planning on continuing it from the point that it ended, but I kinda got lazy and don't feel like writing it to where someone knows Sync's identity, aside from Jade. (Because Jade knows all.)


End file.
